


Angel is the Centerfold - RSS 2015

by herstorybooks



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minticetea, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herstorybooks/pseuds/herstorybooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by MintIceTea for RSS 2015: Angel is the Center fold. Belle/Macavoy<br/>Oh minty! here we are!! I really hope you like your gift!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS LOVELY/BEAUTIFUL/SMART HUMAN BEING/ALIEN ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel is the Centerfold - RSS 2015

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MintIceTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintIceTea/gifts).



The cold wet ground hit hard as Macavoy landed flat on his stubble covered face. With the combination of a throbbing head and a turning stomach, he groaned as last night’s whisky began to make a re-appearance. The sickly taste lingered in his mouth as he puked into the street’s gutter. He looked up to see the judgmental faces of the local shop owner from across the street. Feeling ashamed for being chucked out of a pub, he reached around the floor, avoiding the extra puddles of sick.  
“Looking for this?” A sweet voice came from above him; as well as a delicate hand holding a white piece of cloth. He lifted his head and was greeted by a pair of beautiful baby blue eyes and a sunny complexion. He stared dumbly and the brunette curls and pink lips. She was pure like snowflakes. “Father?”  
“Yes… err thank you.” He said as he reached out for the cloth. She smiled sweetly before walking away leaving _Father_ Macavoy to stare at her in awe.

An hour had past and Father Macavoy had sat in the café for well over half an hour. He stared into his empty coffee cup, staring at the small amounts of cold residue coffee. He looked around the café and noticed a man in a suit, check his watch and rush out of the building, leaving a hot cup of coffee. He reached over towards the table and gulped the coffee down, burning his tongue in the process. Certain no one had seen, he placed the cup back on the table and stood up to leave.  
“Hold on Father.” A hand reached out and held him back by the shoulder. “I hope you have £2 for that.” Macavoy froze and stared around the room in panic.  
“err… yes. What about a contribution to the church?” he asked rather desperately  
“ha! Nice try mate…”  
“hold on Gas!” a familiar sweet voice chirped out of nowhere, along with the sound of shoes tapping towards the two men.  
“Belle; how long have you been back?” Macavoy turned his head and saw the young woman from earlier rushing towards them. She was dressed in a white shirt dress that fell below her knee. A deep blue cardigan covered her arms, revealing only the end of the sleeves rolled up to her elbow.  
“Just a few days.” She said reaching into her pocket pulling out a £5 note. “Here.” She said handing the note to Macavoy. “Get something to eat whilst you’re at it.” She said with a large sweet smile on her face. He stared at her dumbly, as he did before, as she walked away.  
“Hey! Belle, wait!” Belle stopped, her chestnut hair flicking behind her as she turned. “Want to get a drink later? Like old times?” he asked with a rather disgusting grin  
“Sorry, Gas. I’m heading back to Uni tomorrow. I’m going to be packing all night. Maybe next time I’m home.”  By the look on her face, Macavoy could tell she had no plan of going for a drink with him next time she was back. “Bye Gas.” Her eyes then turned to Macavoy. “Have a nice morning.”

 

A year had been and gone, and the memory of the sweet young lady paying for his breakfast had been replaced by nearly being killed by a group of trained assassins. A lot had changed for Macavoy. He was no longer reliant on alcohol and his parish had restored their faith in him.  It was late at night and Father Macavoy had stopped at a petrol station on his way home from visiting his mother a few hours away.  He stood in front of a coffee machine, waiting for his cup to fall and fill with caffeine. As the drink poured into the paper cup; he took a moment to look around at his surroundings. There was nothing out of the ordinary. There was a bored teenage cashier grunting his way through a midnight shift and a few adults buying car journey snacks and paying for petrol. Oh and a spotty looking teenager hovering over the dirty magazines. He watched him as he nervously picked up a handful and a newspaper to hide them underneath. The kid looked around for a while before bolting out of the door. The other teenage cashier noticed the stacks of papers and magazines he took without paying for, and ran after him. In the chaos Macavoy noticed that the kid had dropped one of the magazines. He chucked to himself as he went to pick it up and place it back where it belonged. But he froze. His blood ran cold. There on the centrefold was a stunning goddess wrapped in gold and dark blue, with barely any clothes on and a see- through negligee. With piercing blue eyes, sweet pink lips and dark curled hair; memories of a morning at least a year ago appeared. The sweet young girl had paid for his stolen coffee and helped him find his cloth. What was her name? Belle! That was it! He had been rather taken by her, the innocence and purity she carried with her, the sweetness and kindness. What was she doing in here?

During his train of thought he hadn’t even realised that he had walked over towards the counter, left £5 on the desk and left, carrying the magazine in hand.

The car rumbled along the dark bumpy road. Macavoy’s mind kept going over and over his brief meeting with the woman named Belle. She said she was in University hadn’t she? She seemed like a bright young girl. That waiter seemed to have taken a shine to her, but the rejection of a drink proposal would suggest the feelings weren’t mutual.

Outside the car it was pitch-black, apart from a few glowing street lights and the pouring rain. The road seemed to go on forever; no hotels or petrol stations and no signs of life. However after an hour or so, two small red lights appeared in the distance, along with rather a lot of smoke. Macavoy slowed down his car and low and behold was a broken down beetle and a rather soaked Belle French. 

She saw the car slowing down and waved her arms in the air. The car pulled to a halt and she ran over.  
“Oh thank goodness…” he heard her say as he rolled down the window. Her face appeared to have frozen in slight shock, father Macavoy could almost kid himself it was because she recognised him “Father Macavoy?” she asked over the sound of pouring rain. “What on earth are you doing out here?” His vocal chords seemed to have failed on him as when he tried to speak; a pathetic squeak of a voice came out instead.  
“Miss F…French. He greeted her. “Would…Would you like a lift?” he asked nodding his head to the broken down car. There was no way she would be able to get someone to come out at this time of night and in this weather, and the poor thing was soaked through.  
“Oh yes please! I’m just heading to the hospital.” She said just before running back to her car, collecting her bag and hoping into the passenger seat of Father Macavoy’s car.

She slumped herself into the car and Macavoy began to drive away from the broken down car. “Thank you so much Father. That old thing can barely get me down the road these days.” She complained whilst she pulled her wet hair out of her make up less face. Macavoy took a brief moment to glance and take in her features. They were much softer like this, without all the heavy harsh make up that was applied in the magazine. The Magazine! Fuck! It was on the passenger seat! Belle French was sitting on a dirty porn mag, one that she featured in, inside Father Macavoy’s car! He silently said a prayer to all the saints that she wouldn’t realise she was sitting on the damn thing!

She began to shrug off her soaked blue fuzzy jumper and chuck it to the floor in front of her, leaving her in only a slightly damp black T-Shirt. Macavoy gulped, she wasn’t making it easy to forget about her barely clothed body in that magazine.  
“You… err… you said you were heading to the hospital?” he asked nervously, trying to take his mind of the soaked body. He was a man of the cloth devoted to God! He wasn’t supposed to have these filthy ideas of a young woman with no clothes on!  
“Oh yes…” that ‘yes’ managed to take his mind of the magazine all together. Her voice was dripping in sadness, with worry.  
“Is everything all right? Are you ill?”  
“Oh no! It’s not me! It’s my father…” Macavoy turned to look at her in the dark light, tears slowly building up in her eyes.  “To cut a long story short; my mother died 6 years ago and unfortunately Papa turned to the bottle.” Macavoy nodded in realisation  
“That explains it.”  
“explains what?” Belle asked confused.  
“That morning when you found me on the ground outside the pub, you didn’t judge me like the others” Belle smiled and ducked her head almost embarrassed for her kind nature.  
“Anyway…he appeared like he’d stopped drinking just before I went back to school, but I guess not. Liver Damage. _Bad_ liver damage.” The sound and stress on the word ‘Bad’ was enough to show Macavoy that Belle was expecting the absolute worse. It was also enough to tell him that it was time for their conversation to turn silent for a while.

He leant forward and turned on the radio, smiling at her sympathetically. Belle smiled back, her eyes simply thanking him for not pushing the matter further, and allowing her to be quiet and with her thoughts

Father Macavoy shook hands with people as they came over to thank him for his service. The old church was full of people dressed in their Sunday best, sitting and listening to the words he had to say. Of course there was the odd member who would make the odd comment. “It’s nice to see you back on your feet.” All Macavoy could do was smile and shake their hand politely; when really all he wanted to do was tell them to piss off!

The crowed began to thin and eventually Macavoy heard the large heavy door slam behind the last person. He took a large sigh and sat himself down. “Long day?” he heard a voice chirp from behind him. He jumped slightly and turned around to see Belle French. It had been two weeks since he had given her a lift to the hospital, and the magazine still was tucked away in his glove compartment. He remembered how casually beautiful she looked that night, even with half her make up dripping down her face and her hair soaked. However when he turned around he noticed something different about Belle. Her eyes were swollen and red with bags sitting heavily underneath. Her skin was pale and hair was un-brushed.  
“Miss French?” he asked as he stood up “Are you all right?”  
“Oh yes…” she said not so convincible. “I was just wondering if you were free on the 17th. My father he err…” a lump appeared in her throat and she swallowed hard to rid herself of it. “Well he didn’t make it. And I would really appreciate it if you would hold the service.”  She said holding back tears.  
Macavoy’s heart broke as he saw her stand their tired and lifeless.  
“Of course Miss French”

**_In sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life though our Lord Jesus Christ; we commend to the Almighty God, our brother Moe French._ **

A crowd of people dressed all in back stood around a large wooden coffin, watching as it sunk into the ground.

**_We commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust._ **

Belle stood at the front of the crowd, refusing to remove her eyes from the photograph of her father that stood proudly in front of his grave. Tears build up in her eyes, but Belle refused to let them fall. “Come on Belle, no tears. You could cause a flood with the amount you cry.” Belle could hear her father’s cheeky voice in her head. She couldn’t help but smile lightly.

**_The Lord bless him ad keep him, unto him, the Lord lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace. Amen._ **

A chorus of ‘Amen’ came from behind Belle. She looked up to see that Father Macavoy was looking at her sympathetically, nodding his head towards the rose that held in her hand. She smiled in thanks for reminding her; she walked towards the sinking coffin and placed the flower upon the lid. “Bye Papa.”

Belle sat in the corner of the room with a tall glass of white wine in her hand, all alone. Everyone around her were drinking, smiling and laughing. If it wasn’t for the black clothing and large picture of her father, anyone would think it was a celebration. Then again, wasn’t it? That’s what Belle wanted, what her father would have wanted, for people to have all the happy memories of her father, to celebrate his life. Belle only wished she could live in the ignorant bliss everyone else was in, that his life was completely happy. The truth was her father as extremely depressed after her mother died, and drinking was the only way he got through the day. He was a stubborn man, and it didn’t matter how many times Belle cried pleaded or shouted at him, he always insisted that he was far from having a problem. She sighed in contempt as she remembered him saying that he was going to lay off the drink, so she could go off to University and not worry about him. She shook her head as she remembered that it was all a lie, a lie her father told to ensure she went and lived her life. But he didn’t know what she was really doing with her life.  
 

“I know it’s a stupid question but I feel I should ask. How are you doing?” Belle looked up to see Father Macavoy siting down right next to her. She smiled weakly. “I’m coping. Thank you for today the service was beautiful.” Macavoy smiled and nodded in appreciation for her words. He watched as she turned away to look at the loud happy crowed.  
 “They didn’t know him, he wasn’t happy, but how can I shatter that illusion?” she said whilst she shrugged. “He wasn’t happy, he was… oh what does it matter now? I just wish I was in their position right now. I just wish I could make myself feel better.” She said as she forced the tears of sadness and anger from her eyes.  
“Don’t.” Macavoy placed a tender warm hand on hers. “Don’t try and feel better; be sad. Be angry. Be what you need to be.” Belle looked at the hand placed upon hers, and felt instant warmth up and down her body, as if she was being held. As if she was being protected.  She then looked up at Macavoy and instead of pity she saw empathy. He understood what she was going through. He understood the pain of loss, and the anger that she had to feel, what she felt whilst everyone else could have a merry old time. She wanted to ask how but all she could manage was…  
“Thank you” she sobbed before bursting into tears and hiding her face into his neck. Macavoy held her tightly as she cried into his neck, praying to the God to give him the power to take all her pain away.

Once the funeral was over, Macavoy offered to walk Belle back to her hotel, an offer Belle gratefully accepted. The night was cold and crisp, however not one cloud hid the bright twinkling stars and shining moon. Belle looked up and tried to count as many stars as they walk in an only slightly awkward silence. Whilst counting the stars Belle began to realise how truly alone she now was. Now both her parents were gone and she didn’t really have any friends she could truly rely on. Of course there was the odd girl at the magazine she would have a friendly chat with, but she never let herself get to close. She didn’t want to stay at the magazine for long and creating relationships with the other girls who worked there would only make it harder for her to leave once she had enough money. Yes, she truly was alone now.

She pulled her coat tighter around her body and turned to look at the man who walked along beside her. She studied him, how he walked with his shoulders up around his chin and his face staring down at the floor. She had never seen him with anyone else, with any friends or family. He’d been alone the day they met, he’d been alone the day they bumped into each other again, he’d been alone when she’d asked if he would run the funeral and he’d been alone at the funeral. Alone, just like her.

They eventually reached Belle’s hotel. It was a rather luxurious place: valet parking, room service, king sized bed, bar, gym and spar; the works. It was times like this Belle was grateful for her life style choice.  
“Wow!” She heard Macavoy gasp. “I thought you were a student? How did you afford this?” he asked rather interested in how she would respond.  
“Oh, I found a good deal online…” she ducked her head, lying obviously. “Listen I err… I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me the past few days.”  
“No thanks needed, I was happy to help.” He crossed his hands in front of him nervously and smiled. “Still, I’d really like to thank you properly. You know when I grew up here I used to love hiking up the hills with my parents. If…If you wanted we could maybe go hiking next week and get a coffee afterwards?” Macavoy stood in silence, was she asking him out on a date? No surely not.  
“I err…”  
“If you’d rather not… then…hey! No worries.” Belle said trying to sound casual; and failing  
“No!” Belle’s eyes widened slightly at Macavoy’s strong no. “I mean…” he said more calmly “I’d love to.” Belle’s face broke into a blushing smile, the most beautiful smile Macavoy had ever seen.  
“Oh! Wonderful!” she beamed. “How about Saturday?”  
“Saturday sounds lovely.” He said rather breathlessly.  
“well I’ll... see you then.” Belle leant forward and placed a small gentle kiss to Macavoy’s cheek, only just missing the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight Father Macavoy.”  She then disappeared into her building, leaving a blushing and stunned Father Macavoy.

It was Friday morning and Belle was walking down a busy street of London, staring at the luxurious lingerie presented in the window. Belle was simply killing time before her train back to her home town, excitingly waiting for her date with Macavoy. She was looking at a beautiful set of navy blue bras, when her mobile began to ring. “Hello…Oh hi! I’m good thank you… Go on… oh wow…”

Saturday had finally arrived and Macavoy and Belle met at the bottom of a hill.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.” They greeted each other awkwardly. “So…” Belle began, looking up the hill “Ready to get your heart racing?”

They walked up the rocky footpath in their usual awkward silence for a while; however this time it was Macavoy who broke the silence.   
“How have you been since the funeral?” Belle turned her face to look towards him, hoping the look of hurt and paint wasn’t painted across her face.  She sighed.  
“I’ve been coping, keeping myself busy with work.” Over the past week Belle had managed to get a few bookings. Yes that meant getting the train back into London to only come back later that day, but it was worth it. Who knew sitting in front of a bunch of men wearing nothing but a bow tie could distract you from your grief.  
“Oh. I thought you were a student.” Macavoy asked, keeping up the charade that he didn’t know what she really did for a living.  
“I am!” Belle said rather panicked. “I just err…. Work in the university’s library in my spare time.”  
“Ah.” Macavoy looked down at his shoes treading along the ground.

They decided to take a break once they reached a small bench. Belle sat on the ground looking out at the view.  
“My mum used to take me up here when I was little. We would make up stories about the city and the people that lived here.” Macavoy smiled and sat beside her. “It’s funny but every time I read a book, my brain imagines it in this place. It could be describing up town New York and I’ll picture this place.” Macavoy was in awe of her eyes that were filled with imagination. He could practically see the stories in her head, simply by the smile on her lips.  
“You like books?”  Belle’s eyes lit up; as did her face  
“oh gosh yes! It was all me and my mum did!”  
“and your father?”  
“No not really. He tried when my mum was dying. He knew how badly I missed us crawling up on the sofa and reading together. But it wasn’t the same. And when she died he just turned straight to drinking.” Belle’s face ducked down to hide her tears.  
“I’m sorry. I know all too well the pain of losing someone you love.” The words he spoke shocked  himself. He had never said time so willingly. Belle’s face looked up encouraging him to carry on. He took in a deep breath.    
“My son. We were driving home and there was a motorcyclist who drove into us. He didn’t…” he found himself unable to finish his sentence. He turned his head away in embarrassment but Belle placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. She didn’t say anything, she just stared at him in comfort.

They continued walking up the hill this time laughing and joking with each other.  
“Come on slow coach! We’re practically at the top!” She yelled down to him.  
“I’m far too old for this.” Belle rolled her eyes and ran down towards him, pulling him up to the top with her.  
“You’re not old! Come on there’s a café up top!”

They slumped down into their seats in the café with their steaming drink in front of them. “Hey!” Belle whispered. “I bet you can’t throw this sugar cube into my drink from over there.” Macavoy laughed at the childish game she had challenged him with.   
“Fine then, but this is rather childish Miss French.” He said mockingly.  
“You’re only saying that because you don’t think you can do it Father Macavoy.” She handed him a white sugar cube and raised her eyebrows cheekily. Macavoy took a moment to take his aim before throwing the cube, making it land I her drink and caused half of it to spill onto the table. They both jumped and howled with laughter, grabbing the attention of the other customers in the café.

By the time they had left the café, the sun had begun to set, casting a beautiful glow on the view in front of them. Belle began to walk toward the edge of the cliff, making Macavoy nervous.  
“Belle, you’re getting rather close to the edge”  
“Oh come on you’re not scared are you?” she asked pulling him towards her. He stood beside her, looking at her instead of the drop below them. Belle closed her eyes and felt the wind blow in her hair. The glow of the sun made her look even more beautiful then he could ever have imagined, it took his breath away. Belle opened her eyes and turned her face towards him, giving him a bright large smile. “Come on! We’ve got to get back to the bottom and knowing you it will take until midnight.”

They finally reached the bottom and began to walk back Belle’s hotel when it began to rain.  
“I had a really lovely time today Belle.” Macavoy enjoyed spending today with Belle. She made him feel comfortable enough to show emotion, but care free enough to have fun and do stupid things like throw sugar cubes across tables. She was beautiful, care free and full of life. Why she was spending time with him he didn’t know.  
“Me too,” she beamed. “We should do it again.”  
“That would be nice.”  They came to halt as they reached the entrance to the hotel.  
“Well this is me.” She said standing underneath the ledge of the hotel sheltering her from the rain.   Macavoy stood a good three steps away from her, standing in the rain “Thank you for today, I really needed to take my mind of things really.” They both smiled at each other, unsure of how to end their day. Belle was about to say goodnight when something struck her. “I don’t know your name!”  
“what?”  
“your first name. I don’t know it.” Macavoy laughed.  
“No one normally seems to take an interest in my name.”  
“I am. I’m actually rather interested in you…” she said stepping forwards into the rain in front of him, her hair dampening by the second.  
“Why?” Macavoy said breathlessly, shocked by the lack of space between them. Belles face was only a short distance away for his, and now he could see the small freckles across her cheeks and nose. He hadn’t noticed them before. And her eyes, they were like deep pools of water inviting him to dive in. God’s she was beautiful! And only inches away from him.  
“What’s your name?” she whispered.  
“Joseph.” Belle smiled, it suited him. The smile then fell from her face. “What’s wrong?” the rain fell around them, making it difficult to hear but Macavoy could swear he could hear her breathing. She reached her hand forward and placed it against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. Her eyes fluttered up to look up at him as she slowly leaned up and brushed her soft lips against his. Macavoy’s lips closed as if it was a reflex and after a moment of shock. Belle began to retreat after not feeling any sort of response from him; however she didn’t get far as Macavoy snapped into action and kissed her back heatedly. Belle held on tightly to his clothing pulling close, enjoying the feel of his hands on her back, holding her close to him. They were both in perfect bliss, standing with each other in the cold air and rain; not caring as their lips entwined and danced with each other. Both of them tasting the coffee and cake they had eaten earlier. They parted for breath, staring at each other in the rain and breathing heavily. Belle’s lips were slightly swollen; her cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold and hair wet from the rain. “Beautiful.” Macavoy whispered without realising. Belle blushed before Macavoy leaned down and kissed Belle again, this time much more gently. Belle sighed happily as they parted again.  
“So… _Joseph…_ ” Belle giggled, the name still sounding weird. “Would you err… like to come up?” Macavoy stared dumbly at her for a moment. Was this a good idea? She was still grieving for her father and he was a man of the cloth! He didn’t want to feel as if he was taking advantage of her; but god the way she was looking at him right now…  
“Yes.”  

The morning sun began to shine through the curtains, causing Macavoy’s eyes to flutter open. As he stared into the golden rays of sunlight; memories of the most blissful dream began to make their way into his brain. Smooth velvet skin and sweet pink lips. He began to remember the dream, of the feeling of being connected to a beautiful woman that might as well have been a goddess.  He smiled dumbly to himself and rolled over, it wasn’t until he saw the golden glow of Belle French did he realise they weren’t dreams, but memories! “Oh my God.” He whispered to himself.  
“Are you watching me sleep?” Belle whispered with her eyes still closed.  
“Oh… oh, I’m sorry.” He said awkwardly Belle’s eyes opened and she smiled at him.  
“Good morning.” She said rather cheekily.  
“Good morning.” He smiled back, reaching over to brush the hair off her bare shoulders.  
“so err… how does this work?”  
“how does what work?” he asked rather confused, resting his hand on her neck.  
“I’ve never exactly done this…” she said motioning to their bodies. “Do we get breakfast, go for a Sunday walk?”  
“Sunday?” He interrupted. He turned to look at the clock, seeing it was 9:30. “Shit!” He leaped out of bed and reached for his clothes and began to get dressed.  
“wh…what’s wrong?”  It then hit her. “Sunday service.” She said in disappointing realisation. Macavoy was about to rush out the door without a word of a goodbye. “Joseph!” She called just as he reached the door. He stopped and turned to see Belle sitting up with the duvet cover wrapped around her, with a look of almost hurt on her face. He walked over towards her, cupped her face and smiled at her.  
“Come by the church later and we’ll go drive up to that café we went to yesterday.” He leant down and kissed her sweetly before rushing out the door. Belle sighed and laughed to herself gently before falling back into bed.

They hadn’t even reached the café. All morning whilst Belle lay in bed, she thought about what she was going to do. The day before when Belle was in London, Belle had received a call from the director of the magazine she had modelled for over the weekend. She had planned for it to be her last shoot, for her to go back to Uni and finally become the writer she had always wanted to be, however they had presented her an opportunity she couldn’t just ignore. They had invited her to Paris. To do a classy fashion shoot, not a cheap sleazy underwear shoot. Originally Belle was ready to jump at the chance to go to Paris and model. Now things were different. She knew she was developing feelings for Joseph. As much as she tried to tell herself it wouldn’t work, him being a vicar and her being a dirty magazine model, but she couldn’t help but hope it would.  
“I need to tell you something.” She said as they pulled up into the car park.  
“That sounds serious.” He said rather worried by Belle’s harsh tone.  
“I’m not really a student.” Joseph almost laughed, instead he just nodded.  
“I know.”  
“What?” Belle asked extremely confused.  Joseph took a large deep breath and counted to three.  
“Look in the glove compartment.” Belle opened up the hatch and pulled out the magazine, recognising it straight away. She opened it to the page she knew her face would reflect back at her and turned to Joseph for an explanation. “The night your car broke down, I was on my way home from visiting my mother and I stopped at a petrol station. A kid tried to steal a bunch of magazines; he dropped this one on his way out.” Belle stayed quiet for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what he had just told her.  
“You know.”  
“I know and I don’t care.”  
“Why? You a vicar! This isn’t exactly “holy.” Why don’t you care?”  
“I don’t know.” Joseph laughed.  
“This isn’t something I planned to do! It just happened. My father needed the money and I was hardly earning anything and…” Belle said panicked  
“Belle I’m not judging you! You don’t need to explain yourself to me!”  
“But I want to”

 _“Hi Dad!” Belle called as she walked into the house, dropping her bag on the floor._  
“Belle! Yur heer…” Belle’s father swayed over towards her, slurring his words and stinking of alcohol.  
“Dad, are you drunk?” She asked as he squeezed her in a tight hug.  
“Nonsense! I’ve only hud a few!” This was the first sign for Belle. But she ignored it; it was Christmas, who didn’t have a drink at Christmas. But over the month she had spent there, her father was hardly ever sober. And when she saw a letter from the bank labelled ‘FINAL DEMAND’ she began to get seriously worried. One night when her father was nursing a rather horrid hang over, she sat down beside him, passing him a glass of water.  
“Dad, what’s going on?” she asked quietly.  
“What do you mean?” he grunted. Belle placed the letter on the table. Her father looked up, instantly looking embarrassed.  
“How much do you need?”  
“£5000.” He winced. The next day Belle had dropped out of school and called one of her old high-school friends. 

_“Hi Ruby! It’s Belle French… I’m good thanks, listen, do you still work at that magazine?”_

_The next year when Belle came back from Christmas Belle’s father was still drinking like a sailor, however now she had the comfort of knowing he wasn’t about to be kicked out of his house. However the when Christmas morning arrived, Belle and her father exchanged gifts. She presented him with a beautifully framed photograph of her and her mother. He in return handed her a sealed envelope. She opened it to find a typed letter from her university.  
“They want you to go back, and you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m going to quit the drinking.” He leant forward and placed a comforting hand over hers. “I Promise.” _

“I did the odd shoot to make sure I had some extra money, but I thought dad had quit the drinking. I got a call that night from the hospital, turns out he hadn’t.” Belle sighed and ducked her head to hide the tears. She took a deep breath in and out. “Last week was supposed to have been my last shoot, but they’ve asked me to go to Paris and I don’t know what to do.” There was a moment of awkward silence when both of them simply sat there, neither of them being daring enough to say the first word. It was Joseph who did.  
“You should go.”  
“What?”  
“Belle you’re a young beautiful woman, you have your whole life to figure out what you want to do. Don’t let an old fool like me hold you back.” He reached over and squeezed her hands lovingly. “Go to Paris and live your life. Then maybe one day you can come back.” She looked at him I disbelief for a moment or so. Joseph began to get worried as the tears began to fill in her eyes, did she think he was rejecting her? However she leant forward and briefly kissed his lips.  
“Thank you.”

It had been 6 months since Belle had left to go to Paris. Macavoy didn’t regret telling her to go. They hadn’t spent long together, but the time did they did spend together brightened Macavoy’s life in bright wonderful technicolour.  But he didn’t want to hold her back; she was still young and with so much of life for her to discover. So he told her to go, even though he missed her terribly. Today he found himself sitting in a small grubby café, the café where she had paid for his coffee. He sat at the table with his pen and dairy, making lists ad preparations for a wedding he had to ordain next week. The couple were chaotic! A pregnant bat shit crazy bride, and a groom who seemed to only be marrying her to be a good man. The bride was demanding all sorts of odd and ludicrous lines to be put into the service, to have doves released once they had both said I do; even though Macavoy explained they couldn’t release live birds inside such a small church.  He took a large gulp of coffee before sighing and planting his head on the table.                                                                                    “Look likes it’s time to throw in the towel, old man.” Macavoy looked up and saw that annoying waiter gas looking and mocking him “I hope you have the money for that coffee.” He grunted and looked back down at his notes. He was so sick of the obnoxious people in this town.                               “Long day” Macavoy’s head lifted up as a sweet familiar voice appeared. He turned around and there she was; Belle French.

END


End file.
